Past, Present, Future Tense
by J. Maria
Summary: Millicent lived an entire lifetime living up to all those labels, when all she really wanted was to be accepted for who she was. Too bad she had to die to get it.  Expansion to the story Banning.
1. Prologue: Three Generations in One Room

Title: Past, Present, Future Tense  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: Im not J.K. - wish I had her money though. I do own Banning, and like all of my kid!fic kids, I fiercely protect them with a metal paper towel holder.  
Summary: She lived a life of other people's labels, when all she wanted to be was accepted for who she was.  
A/N: I wrote a few drabbles in this AU!OotP verse a few years or so back (Banning), and the original opening chapter to this sat on my flash drive for a really long time, even though the story's outline (I know, what a shocker - me using an outline) and major plot points had already been set out. Then I wrote it off - _never gonna finish it, pfft, just post the damn drabbles._ And yet, I still wanted to tell _her_ story. Well, not really her story, because _that_ ends far too fast.

**__**

Past, Present, Future Tense

__

Prologue: Three Generations in One Room

Her life had always been measured by someone else's standards. In her youth, she'd been judged by her family's wealth and blood purity. Her first years at Hogwarts had been judged by the Slytherin emblem on her chest, and the last years by the lack of the Dark Mark on her forearm. In her brief stint as a grown-up, she'd been labeled as someone's mother and someone else's lover.

Labels that clung to her skin, her soul, her very being even after all those painful and happy memories had passed. Those same labels had blocked out the true person underneath it all even from those who should have seen it. A sad smile crossed her lips, a useless tear trickled down her cheek as she looked at herself in the mirror of this stranger's home.

Long dark hair that had seen better days. Sad brown eyes that had seen too much in such a short time. A crooked smile that had at one time frightened her classmates and at another comforted her crying child. Her body hadn't changed much since her schooldays, slimmed a bit in some places and thickened a bit in others.

She looked almost nothing like the woman standing behind her in the mirror. Shoulder length chocolate colored hair, gray eyes that shone with contentment and joy, a slim figure that she must have gotten from her father, and a bulging belly that she'd gotten from her husband. There were no shadows in her daughter's eyes, no fear. There was love, there was hope, and there were all the things she'd hoped her daughter could have. She was label free.

"Mummy?" Her daughter Banning spoke softly, not sure if she was imagining her mother being there or actually seeing her.

"Hello, my precious girl," Millicent Bulstrode brushed away the tears in her eyes as she smiled at Banning. "You are positively glowing. I'd thought that was just an old witch's tale, but here I stand in the glowing truth."

"That's all you can say to me? I'm glowing?" Banning's lip quivered, a trait Millicent was sure her daughter hadn't inherited from her or her father. "You've been - gone -"

"Your father's raised you right. He did a fine job raising you." It ached, the reminder that _she_ hadn't been there for her daughter.

"That's no thanks to Dad, Mum did all the work," Banning snorted. Her eyes widened in realization of what she said, _whom_ she'd said it to, and she started stammering, "What - what I mean is Auntie -"

"Its okay, I know he married her. She's a damn fine woman. We were friends when you were little." Where had her happy daughter ever picked up that stammering? Most likely her 'uncle'. He always did stammer. "They all did a good job raising you, all your uncles and aunties, and your Dad and Mum."

"But you were there first, all by yourself. And then you -" Banning sniffled. "I really needed you. And I couldn't have you because -"

"Shh, there's no need to speak the words. I really did want to be there, too," Millicent gave her a smile, one she hoped her daughter remembered from those early days. "You are so lovely and grown, Banning. I could not be prouder of you, my girl. You were the greatest joy in my life."

"Mummy -"

"I can't linger long now, love, but I had to come and see you, and have you see me back," Millicent would not cry - not in front of her girl. "Just remember, it's never as bad as it seems."

"Mummy - _please don't go!"_ Tears spilled over her cheeks as her fingers slipped through Millicent's hand.

It tore at her, hearing those words leaving her daughter's lips. Begging for the impossible, just as her father had once begged for his own mother's life. And while her daughter had not had to know the blood and loss of war that Millicent and her father had, she had known her own measure of loss.

"I can't stay, as much as I wish. How I loved you, little one. Never forget that?"

Banning Potter cried as the ghost of her mother disappeared before her. She'd come to see her daughter, and the child she carried. Millicent knew that Banning had often questioned why some ghosts stayed with the living, while others moved on. It had been her father-in-law, Harry, who'd supplied the answer. The ones who stayed were scared - and Millicent Bulstrode had been the fearless Slytherin girl who'd braved a battlefield to save the injured during the last battle with Voldemort.

_"I knew you would be safe,"_ The words whispered across Banning's ears. "_I had unwittingly gathered to me three of the fiercest protectors for you. A dreaming Ravenclaw, a loyal Hufflepuff, and one of the bravest Gryffindors I ever knew. I knew they would make _him_ see you and help him recover. He deserved it."_

"And what did you deserve?"

_"I got what I deserved. I got to have you, and even if it was for the shortest of times - they were the _very best_, love_."

* * *

James Sirius Potter stretched his arm across the mattress, reaching for his wife. The sheets were cool to the touch, and that had him jerking upright in his bed. Banning slept like the dead, and she was _never_ up before him. Reaching for his wand, a thousand fears racing through his head, James hurried to the door of their room. She'd been complaining earlier of feeling off, and with her so far gone into the pregnancy his fear wasn't exactly irrational.

"Ban? You in there, love?" James called, stepping forward into the glow of the front sitting room. "Babe?"

"I'm over here," her voice sounded reed-thin, and as hollow.

James raced over to where she sat stiffly, a throw pulled haphazardly over her shoulders and tearstains in dried tracks down her cheeks. He reached up, cupping her face and lifting it to the light.

"What happened? You feel ill? Is it -"

"No," Banning sucked in a deep breath, her shoulders shaking. "I saw my mother, Jimmy."

"What? Why's your Mum comin' over at this time of -"

"Not my _Mum_, James," Banning scowled at him, wearing a look that reminded him frighteningly of her Dad. Draco Malfoy was one eerie bastard, and he _hated_ seeing that look on his wife's face. "My _real_ mother."


	2. 1: Pressure Points

Title: Past, Present, Future Tense  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: JKR owns all, I own Banning  
Summary: In all of the confusion and death of the final battle, new lives are created.  
A/N: This all began as a series of drabbles done for a challenge at malfoy100, the original drabbles are still intact (in my story _Banning_), but will be expanded on and the back story added. This part is a slight extension/revision of _One Night Stand_ in _Banning_.  
This story was conceived long before **Half Blood Prince** was out, and its staying that way. The rating may go up for mature content relating to grief, war, and language. Its fairly depressing.

**__**

Past, Present, Future Tense

_1. Pressure Points_

  


That night had been one of the longest in the entire Wizarding world history for many. Five hundred men, women, and children had been killed in organized Death Eater attacks on Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow, and Diagon Alley within the last few hours. Most of the damage had happened in Hogsmeade. Those that had been severely injured had been rushed to St. Mungo's for medical treatment via port-keys. Those who had suffered less severe injuries had been rushed to the safety of the Hogwarts hospital wing.

Millicent Bulstrode nursed a bruised elbow in the hospital wing while frantically trying to help all of the other wounded. She, Pansy Parkinson, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil had all been assigned to basically organize the entire hospital ward since Madame Pomfrey had been one of the more severely injured. A long, no-longer bloody scar streaked across the left side of the Madame's face, and not one of the Seventh years could understand how she was still standing, much less working diligently on her patients.

Millicent tore off a strip of cloth from an extra school shirt the house elves had been handing out to the impromptu nurses. It was small, and she thought that it must have been a first year's shirt. She prayed to any god listening that the child had outgrown it, rather than not needing any shirts anymore. Millicent shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't really know what was making her think such silly things, but she supposed it took her mind off the injured people all around her.

"Miss Bulstrode, I need bandages, now!" Pomfrey cried, startling the Slytherin girl from her thoughts.

Millicent nearly tripped over her own feet at the barking command from the mediwitch. She quickly ripped off a few more strips of cloth and raced to the older woman's side. Lying on the bed was a bloody figure, her once platinum hair matted to her scalp and face. Millicent's breath caught as she studied the face.

"Miss Bulstrode!" Pomfrey snapped. Millicent jerked the bandages forward.

"There's so much blood." Millicent whispered. "Why?"

"The wounds _won't_ heal. I don't know why, but none of my spells are working. Work quickly, and wrap the most severe wounds tightly. We have to stop the bleeding before she can be safely transported to St. Mungo's. Miss Abbot!"

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey?"

The blonde haired Hufflepuff gasped in shock, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' as she stared in disbelief at the figure on the table. That disbelief lasted all of thirty seconds, and then the girl had gone into action.

Her fingers moved nimbly, her face set for the task. Millicent felt her stomach clench at the sight of the older woman lying on the table, but set her thicker, clumsier fingers to the job as well. She pressed down firmly on the wounds, hoping to stop the bleeding through sheer will if not by her own clumsy binding of the wounds. More than once her mind went over how odd it was that they _wouldnt stop bleeding_. She blinked back the tears as she worked. How could this have happened? How could _any_ of this had happened so quickly and efficiently?

Madame Pomfrey worked around the two teens, her efforts focused on keeping the woman alive through potions, charms, and anything that would work should those two fail her. Hannah kept her eyes discreetly on the silent Slytherin girl. Millicent knew this woman, which made it even more clear that the injured woman was most certainly the person Hannah believed her to be. She barely heard Pomfrey's words to Millicent.

"Millicent, fetch Professor Snape and Draco." The mediwitch's eyes locked on the girls. "Hurry."

Millicent nodded, dropping her bandages and racing out of the room. Pomfrey paused for a moment before meeting the uncertain gaze of Hannah. The mediwitch smiled grimly.

"Miss Bulstrode is strong, but she looked ready to break," she explained, her fingers working to heal the witch on her table. "It's harder when it's someone you know. Poor Cissa. Hold on a little longer, dear. We're bringing him to you."

Pomfrey's voice was filled with such concern and care for the witch, that it stilled Hannah for a second. And the words she'd said of Millicent had been spoken from some painful experience in her past.. Hannah blinked back sympathetic tears that had begun to well in her eyes. Tears wouldn't heal the woman on the bed. There had to be something that could, even if it only worked long enough for her to see her son one last time.

* * *

Millicent grabbed a broomstick that had been carelessly left by the messenger that had warned Pomfrey of the incoming wounded, and blatantly ignored the messenger's angry cry at her theft. She zoomed through the halls, breaking a dozen school rules and not really giving a damn about the consequences. The students were too busy to notice, and the staff too burnt out to care about the rules anyway. She only slowed her descent as she neared Professor Snape's clasroom in the dungeons. She knew he'd be there raiding his potion cupboards to help heal those in the Hospital Wing.

All in all, her hunch turned out to more fortuitous than shed hoped. Draco, his face a bit bloody and his hands a mess from the battle, was carefully putting the rows of healing potions into a basket. House elves were gathering up the filled baskets and popping up to the infirmary. Millicent dropped the broom with a clatter, getting their attention. That hadn't been her brightest move in the last ten minutes or so, and she found herself suddenly at the business end of both the wizards' wands.

"Miss Bulstrode, what is the meaning of this?" Snape demanded, lowering his wand.

"Draco," Millicent said, ignoring her Head of House. Words failed her as he stared at her, and she knew he was seeing _everything_ when he looked at her..

"What's wrong? Who's hurt?" Draco asked, recognizing Millicent's look. He tried to brace himself for the news that one of their housemates had been severely injured.

"Your mother -" her voice cracked, and he hadn't braced himself enough for _those_ words.

"What?"

"She's hurt badly, Draco. Pomfrey's trying - it's just _not working_," Millicent blurted. "Madame wants both of you there. There's a broom - that's how I got here. Take it, Draco. _Hurry_."

Draco was already out of the room and flying through the corridors before she could even finish speaking. Snape grabbed a hold of Millicent's robes and pulled her along beside him as they hurried along the hallways after Draco. Fear clouded his eyes, and Millicent felt her own fear double.

"Tell me everything, Millicent. What potions has Poppy used?"

_"Everything_, sir. It's not working. She hasn't stopped bleeding since she was brought in. We've had to bind them the Muggle way. Even that isn't stemming the flow."

"Who found her?"

"I - I don't know. They said she was caught under something. But - that _didn't _look like she'd been simply caught under rubble. She - she looked like she was _tortured_," Millicent shuddered. "There was so much blood. I couldn't stop it."

"How could you?" Snape muttered, but Millicent wasn't sure it was meant for her ears or if it was even directed at her. Before she could answer him, they were already there. How had he gotten them there so quickly?

Fear bit at her heels, making the war even more real. Just beyond those doors, a woman she'd come to respect lay dying. She choked back her own inadequacies, and followed him into the infirmary.

* * *

Draco had felt his heart jump into his throat as he sped through the corridors of the castle. He'd known something was wrong when Millicent had burst into Snape's classroom with that look on her face. Millicent was usually composed and could cover her emotions better than any of them. Seeing her that frightened, scared and pained tore at him. And then she'd spoke.

Since his father's arrest after his involvement with the Death Eater attack on the Ministry, he'd begun to rethink this war. For one, he wasn't going to be an idiot like his father and follow Voldemort. While he still despised Potter and most of what he stood for, he didn't want to ruin his life following around a crackpot.

And one by one, he'd learned that he wasn't the only Slytherin whod felt this way. Flint, his former Quidditch captain, had thrown himself into Quidditch and cut himself off from his Death Eater parents. Pansy, Blaise, Theo and Millicent had all come to him on their own, saying the same things he was feeling. He'd taken it to Snape, and his godfather had listened to them. They'd made plans, he and his mother. They were going to survive this war, by hook or by crook.

And now his world was crashing in around him. Draco propelled himself off the broom, slamming the doors open and racing towards Madame Pomfrey. The older woman gasped in surprise as he shoved past her.

"Tell me its not true, tell me my -" he started to yell.

But there was no denying what - _who_ he saw in that hospital bed. His mother looked broken, even more so than shed ha'd after Lucius had been arrested. The blonde girl standing beside her was crooning something softly to her. Her eyes rested on him briefly, before focusing back on whatever task Pomfrey had given her and leaving him blessedly alone with his mother and the mediwitch.

"What's wrong with her? What have you done for her?" Draco demanded, practically shouting at the healers. Part of him knew that they would do anything necessary to help her, but it looked like all they were doing was _waiting_.

Narcissa Malfoy's body was eerily still on the bloodstained mattress. Her breathing was ragged and shallow. Her body was limp, her pale skin bruised and battered to nearly beyond recognition. Draco felt his stomach protest, and tears clouded his vision as he stared down at his mother.

"She was found on the outskirts of the village. We've tried everything to stop the bleeding, but nothing so far has worked," the blonde answered quickly, noticing how stiff the mediwitch had gotten at his tone.

"I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, we have done _everything_ in our powers to heal your mother."

"Try harder," Draco snarled, his eyes narrowing angrily at the witches.

"Draco?" Narcissa moaned, startling them all. Draco beside the top of her bed within a second, his hand shaking as he brushed the bloodstained hair from her brow, as she had done for him when he was little. "I. . . needed to see. . .my darling. . .boy."

"I'll get them to fix it, Mum," Draco said through clenched teeth. "We'll be laughing at their incompetence later."

"One. . .last. . .time," Narcissa's eyes fluttered slowly closed, speaking as if she hadn't even heard what he'd said.

"Mum? Mum!" Draco's eyes widened, panic flooding them. He couldn't tear his gaze from her face as he snarled at the mediwitches. "_Do something!"_

"There's nothing they _can _do, Draco," Snape's voice said from behind him

"No! Mum, Mum, you've got to hang on!" Draco's hand reached blindly for hers, but as his fingers tightened hers remained slack and cold. "Please, Mum, you've got to hang on! Well get you to Mungo's and some proper healers! Mum!"

"She's gone, son," Snape's face was blurred, and Draco couldn't figure out _why_.

"No!" But he felt Snape remove his fingers from his mother's and fury rippled over him. "I'll _kill her_!"

Draco shoved away from the body - _his mum_ - and ran to avenge his mother. He didn't even notice that he'd nearly sent Millicent sprawling to the floor as he skidded into her. And he definitely didn't notice when he'd gained a shadow.

* * *

Severus Snape glanced over at the shaken witch as Draco's body slammed into her sturdier - and still battered - frame. She looked torn, and he knew that she was one of his five Seventh years that had defected from their parents during the war. Rather than commit themselves to Potter, they'd circled around young Malfoy. Bulstrode, Parkinson, Nott and Zabini would be the only ones who could get through to him.

Zabini or the Parkinson girl would have been a better choice to go after Malfoy. Unfortunately, Zabini was going around with Professor Flitwick to reinforce the school's wards. Pansy Parkinson was on the other side of the Hospital Wing with Professor Sprout and Longbottom applying herbal concoctions to the wounded who would survive their wounds without proper potions.

"Go after him," Snape nodded to the door. Millicent didn't have to be told twice, thank Salazar.

Poppy's lip quivered tellingly, and Severus knew she was still shaken from the hexes hurled at her earlier. The bastards had _aimed_ for the school's mediwitch first, hoping the loss of the healer would raise the death toll. And in a way, it had. Narcissa Malfoy was dead. It had risen by one.

* * *

Millicent raced after Draco. He was taller and leaner than she, so he had a bit of a gain on her. But the rubble from the attacks and the refugees from Hogsmeade made the passing a little difficult. She winced as her right side ached from the earlier bruises and their own collision moments before.

He was very nearly to the Great Hall and the exit beside the four house columns that sparkled with the emerald, crimson, cobalt, and amber jewels that were used to tally house points. If he stepped outside the school, he could very well be killed himself by Voldemort's followers. Her blood chilled at the thought. There had been enough death today to last her a lifetime.

She pushed forward, her hands clenching in the back of his robes and deeper into the flesh of his shoulders. Draco tried to shove her off, but she was heavier than him. Her fear outweighed his fury.

"Get off of me!" he sneered, shoving at her harder.

"Are you a complete idiot?" Millicent tugged him away from the doors and down the sloping corridor that led to the Slytherin dormitory. "Zabini's busting his arse tryin to keep everyone inside this castle safe and _you're _gonna go outside and play for a bit?"

"No! I'm going to kill the bitch that did that to _my mother_!"

"She wouldn't want that, Draco!"

"Don't you tell me what my own mother wouldn't want!" He shoved against her, knocking her forward a bit. She stumbled but refused to be shaken free of him.

"Fine! Go and get yourself _blown up_ by hexes and death curses! Leave us a wizard short! Leave all of us Slytherins who rally around _you_ alone and leaderless! Scamper off like a good little trained ferret, Draco!" Millicent shoved him back, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "But don't act like you're the only one who lost someone today! Don't you dare act as if mine, Blaise's, Pansy's or Theo's safety nets hadn't got ripped away as well the _moment _those Death Eaters apparated into Hogsmeade and started killin randomly! And don't you _fuckin'_ go and rip away the very last thing that's keepin' us all bloody sane!"

"I'm _done_! I didn't ask to become your Scarhead -"

"No, but for the last seven years, you've made it hard for us to want to join him willingly. We _all know_ that he is the only one who has _ever_ defeated the Dark Lord. We've got no choice but to pray he makes it through the battle. Hundreds have died today - _hundreds_. There are bandages on people that come from the clothing of the fallen. And some of them were barely old enough to know how to flick and swish!"

_"She _tortured my mother and left her bloody," Draco seethed, his mind now playing images of unknown First years dying with his mother's last gasping breath. "Someone _has to pay!"_

"So take it out on me," Millicent murmured, standing in front of him.

Draco blinked as he realized she _hadn't _taken him to the dorm. She'd pulled him into a classroom that was now barely recognizable. They weren't in the dungeons, but on a floor almost between the first and the dungeons. Her words sunk in then.

"What?"

"You need to get it out, beat on someone, rail at a warm body - I'm here. I volunteer."

"Slytherins don't volunteer," Draco frowned.

"What? You afraid I'll trounce you soundly?" Millicent poked at him. His rage-fueled adrenaline had to be breaking soon. If she could only distract him for a little while longer. "Are you a wizard, or aren't you?"

"I'm not going to fight you, I'm going to go kill my bitch of an aunt!"

"You're just too chicken to fight me because you remember my headlock maneuver," Millicent shoved at him again.

"No!"

Draco spun around her, pushing her back against the shelves on the wall. She didn't so much as wince as the wooden ridges dug into her already battered back. A bottle tipped forward and crashed at their feet, startling both of them.

It hadn't cracked. But then, most of Ogden's wizarding liquor bottles had come with the standard anti-shatter charms.

"You can't do anything to avenge her now, Draco," Millicent's voice was lower than he'd ever remembered hearing it. "Bellatrix will be long gone from here now. They all snuck in, did their jobs, and snuck back out again. He's trying to lure Potter out, but we all know itll end here. Its always got to end where it began."

"You been sniffin' Trelawny's brew again?" Draco's anger evaporated and his grief started to settle and burn through him.

"No."

"Right, then this bottle ought to end where it began as well," Draco tore the stopper from the Firewhiskey, guzzling it down without even offering her the fist sip.

* * *

Several hours later, she slipped away from him. Her hair was out of it's plait and her robes and clothing mussed from sleeping on the floor in the abandoned classroom. Her bruises numbered in the dozens or so, and she ached all over. Not trusting him not to try and slip out past the newly resurrected wards over the school, she'd cast three or four locking charms on the windowless room as she left.

Draco would barely remember that night. The Firewhiskey and grief would blot out any memories of that day - except for a few key phrases that would get him through the end of the war. He remembered arguing - but with _whom_ was the fuzzy part, and he remembered heated dreams that he should _not _have been dreaming hours after his mother's death. And the impression that whomever had been with him that night had left him alone in the cold light of day without even saying goodbye, just as his mother had left him. _After all, it's always got to end where it began_, he thought bitterly.


	3. 2: Consequences of Our Actions

Title: Past, Present, Future Tense  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: JKR owns all, I own Banning  
Summary: In all of the confusion and death of the final battle, new lives are created.  
A/N: Just another little shout out that this is set in an **AU OotP **world. It was originally plotted out before HBP came out. And it is remaining that way.

_**Past, Present, Future Tense**_**  
**_2. Consequences of Our Actions_

There were very few things that escaped the notice of Madam Pomfrey, medi-witch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was her job to spot the children with tendencies for colds, broken bones, and more often than not, painful hangovers from their first forays into the world of Ogden's finest Firewhiskey. The one that never failed to catch her off guard were the unplanned pregnancies that sometimes followed those drunken forays.

She would often thoroughly question the boys or girls who came to her if they remembered what they'd been up to the night before, hoping to curb these rare occurrences. Only a dozen or so girls had come to her in her twenty plus years of tending to the children of Hogwarts, but none ever struck her so strongly as when Millicent Bulstrode came to her two months before the end of her seventh year.

Millicent cared little for being cooped up in Poppy Pomfrey's tidy little hospital wing, a fact she had made obvious to the woman many times before. Her sudden arrival had made it abundantly clear.

"Miss Bulstrode, what hex have you been hit with this time," Poppy sighed, her mind focused on her remedies inventory. Her eyes only flickered to the tall, black haired heavy-set girl standing in the doorway to her small office.

"Nothin'," her voice sounded defensive, more so than usual. "Can I speak with you, Madame Pomfrey?"

"Of course you can," Poppy gave her a quick smile. Millicent shifted uneasily in front of the mediwitch. "Well, what's ailing you, my dear?"

"I've been feelin' a bit queasy for the last few days," Millicent's eyes dipped low, a clear sign to Poppy that this was just a bit _more_ than a normal case of the bug floating round the castle. "Not much stays down, and I haven't - "

"Millicent, have you been," How to put this gently? The Slytherin girl - well, most girl's in general - were very nervous about answering this question. Poppy shook her head as she sat across from the girl. "Have you had your menstrual cycle.

"No," her voice shook. "I thought it was just off what with the - the attack. And it's never been one of them what's normal, you know."

"And you have been -"

"Just once this year," Millicent cut her off. "I - I can't be sent home. I haven't even got a bloody home anymore. But I know I can't stay here, can I? Would be unseemly."

"You are with child, and you wish to keep the pregnancy?" Poppy said quietly, her hand resting gently on the girl's shoulder.

"I - yeah," Millicent nodded quietly. "I've better chance of surviving that than anything else this year, right?"

"Oh, dear," Poppy wrapped an arm around the girl, pulling her into an awkward embrace.

Voldemort had returned mere days ago, three months after the January Massacre and was now attempting to once again lure out Harry Potter. Even now, they were beginning to evacuate the younger students to Muggle cities and into the private homes of the staff.

"Who is the father, Millicent?" Poppy asked quietly.

"I can't tell you, Madame," Millicent's voice shook. "He doesn't know, and it's honestly better off that way. Besides, he's - he's no longer at school.

_Malfoy_, Poppy thought. Remembering that god-awful night their world had burned, the devastation on the faces of her poppets and the lifeless gazes of those she'd been unable to save. "All right. You know we've been evacuating after the last attack?"

"What has that -"

"You're not staying to fight, should it be brought back to our doorsteps, Millicent," Poppy's voice rasped.

"I didn't fight last time -"

"Go wait in my office while I make some plans. We'll get you set up with some herbal supplements and things that I'm sure you've been lacking lately," Poppy shooed her off to her office and bustled through the school to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

Dumbeldore looked old, far older than Millicent ever remembered seeing him. The war had weighed heavily on him. Hell, it had weighed heavily on all of them. _Not on my baby_, Millicent thought suddenly. All of this bloody mess would be done by the time her child saw the world. Hopefully.

"Madame Pomfrey has brought your condition to my attention, Miss Bulstrode," Dumbledore said quietly. "We've come up with some arrangements that should be most agreeable for all parties considered."

"Parties - it's just me and -" Millicent frowned.

"Madame Pomfrey has kindly offered a safe home for you during your difficulties, somewhere in the south, I believe."

"Hhmm," Pomfrey nodded.

"And Miss Abbott will be sent there with you -"

"Hannah? Why -"

"Madame Pomfrey cannot abandon her post, however she can send her most skilled apprentice with you."

"She'd - just leave -"

"Miss Abbott thinks very highly of you, Millicent," Pomfrey said quietly. "And I would feel better knowing she is safely at your side."

"Besides, she is Muggleborn and knows her way around the Muggle world a sight better than you, my dear," Dumbledore added.

"I-I'm half-blood," Millicent said quietly. "On my Mum's side."

"We'll send you along with schoolwork to finish out the term, but due to these difficult times final exams hardly seem necessary," Dumbledore smiled gently at her. "You leave at first light. Professor McGonagall will travel with you via floo to your contact and Secret Keeper."

"Secret Keeper?"

"In these dark times -"

"I get it," Millicent took a shuddering breath. "Keepin' everybody safe."

"You will be the only one to make contact with your Secret Keeper. Miss Abbott will stay behind with Professor McGonagall and await your further instruction."

Millicent nodded numbly as she tried to wrap her head around how much her life would be forever changed in the next few hours. It seemed almost surreal.

* * *

Draco jerked awake, his mother's screams still echoing in his ears. Not that he'd actually heard her screams. She'd only uttered those few words. That had been months ago at Hogwarts. A lifetime ago. Now he was in a veritable pit with Potter and Weasley, trying to figure out where Voldemort would strike next. A thin, weak trickle of light crept through the crack above the window. Draco shivered a bit. It was as if someone was treading over his grave.

* * *

Three dark figures slipped across the campus, more shadow than substance. They approached Hagrid's Hut without anyone spying them. McGonagall whispered their destination in each girl's ear before they used the illegal Floo hook-up to escape.

Millicent hadn't spoken to anyone the night before, she simply tucked away the few mementoes she could afford to take with her along with her most Muggle of clothes. Hannah had done the same, but neither girl had truly spoken yet. They wouldn't until this plot was concluded.

Millicent stumbled out into a tiny, nondescript parlor. Hannah's shoulder brushed against her as she emerged from the fireplace. Both stepped back from the touch, and further from the fireplace as Professor McGonagall made her entrance.

"Your contact will be in the room at the end of the hall, Miss Bulstrode," The Gryffindor head nodded to the small door.

"Right," Millicent nodded, squared her shoulders and opened the door.

A narrow, plainly decorated hallway loomed ahead of her. Portraits had been hastily removed, all personality scrubbed from the walls surrounding her. Millicent ignored the questions that hovered in her mind - _who had lived here, who had died here, who had fled here to escape_ - and she steeled herself. She didn't have time to worry about fictional people who now only lived in her overactive imagination.

She nearly bumped into the door. It had been left cracked open for her. She took a deep breath and pushed it all the way open.

A tall man stood with his back to her. He must have been an member of the Order. As he stood in the shadow of the window with his back to her, Millicent was damned if she could recognize him.

"There is a portkey on the table along with some instructions for when you reach your destination," he said, never once turning to face her. "It's fully stocked, and deliveries will arrive once every two weeks. Barring any complications."

"For how long? Until the war is over - until -" Millicent took a shuddering breath. "Until six months have passed."

"For the foreseeable future. Until you are safe, until we are all safe," a bit of warmth seeped into his voice.

"Right."

"The portkey activates in ten minutes. It would be best if you head back to your companion now and prepare yourself. You will feel incredibly ill after. There will be a small potion on the nightstand in the front bedroom for you to take. I've been told it's one hell of a cure-all."

"Right," Millicent repeated numbly. "Thank you."

"Good luck."

She barely felt herself turn away from him until she was facing the door. She glanced back over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of the man who would be her Secret Keeper.

* * *

Hannah stared after Millicent's retreating form into the dark hall. When Madame Pomfrey had come to her the night before, Hannah hadn't known what to expect. She'd feared the worst - that Hogwarts was under attack again. She'd not expected that Millicent would need her. Memories of _that night_ had been permanently etched in Hannah's mind, and she especially remembered Millicent's own ordeals. She'd been stumbling back to the Hufflepuff dorm when she'd stumbled upon Millicent in a deserted hall near the kitchens. She looked ill, as if everything that had happened the night before had finally caught up with her.

If Hannah had all her dates and notes correct, it had been that night that Millicent had gotten pregnant. And Hannah had a sinking feeling she knew who the father was.

"You must look after yourselves," Professor McGonagall was saying, mostly to fill the void.

"Yes, Professor."

"And keep up with your studies. Madame Pomfrey expects you to apply for an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's in the fall."

She'd mentioned _Hannah_ continuing her studies - but what of Millicent? Would there be enough time? Time to safely deliver the baby? Just barely. And could Hannah then just abandon Millicent with a clear conscience? Instead of peppering the Professor with those questions, Hannah merely nodded.

"We've got roughly seven minutes," Millicent said suddenly, bursting into the room again. "Thank you, Professor, for seeing us this far."

"You two take care of yourselves," McGonagall repeated. "It cannot last forever."

"Right," Millicent nodded. She glanced at Hannah and held out a sheaf of parchment that bore the Hogwarts crest on it. "Six minutes now."

"Thank you, Professor. Please give the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey our thanks as well."

McGonagall nodded before slipping out into the hallway, leaving the girls to await their fate. Hannah smiled at the somber Millicent.

"It'll be all right, you'll see," Hannah murmured, a small smile on her face.

"Glad one of us can see it," Millicent looked away.

* * *

Six minutes and one portkey later found them in an unfamiliar parlor. Millicent's stomach buckled and her knees gave out on her. Hannah lunged to her side, peppering her with questions.

"Millicent -"

"Nightstand - front bedroom. Secret Keeper left a potion," Millicent said through ragged gasps.

"Got it," Hannah scrambled to her feet and grabbed the potion off the stand. "Here, sip it slowly. Only four sips."

Millicent let the other girl tip the bottle to her lips, remembering a different bottle as the carefully measured sips restored her strength. Hannah was happy that the color returned to her cheeks. She'd barely regained her strength when Hannah started to become mother-hen on her.

"We should get you into bed. It's been a very difficult day -"

"It's not even half past eight, Hannah," Millicent said tiredly.

"You've probably not gotten any rest in the last two days, you've Floo'd, Portkey'd and met the Secret Keeper in a very shady fashion. I'm exhausted just looking at you," Hannah crossed her arms. "Take a nap, and I'll fix us a nice cuppa. If there's any -"

"Fully stocked, to quote the shady Keeper," Millicent murmured, eyeing the freshly made bed through the doorway. It looked awfully tempting. "I'm just havin' a bit of a lie-down. No more than an hour."

She slept till half-past one that afternoon.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when the Headmaster arrived at the location he'd set for this last meeting. The Secret Keeper sat in the dark, his face only partially visible.

"Headmaster," he said as he rose to face the older wizard.

"They are safely placed?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Yes. The companion made a late luncheon and both retired early for the night."

"You'll need to do sweeps once a night the first two weeks," Dumbledore warned.

"I know, Headmaster," he nodded.

"It is a very good thing you do for them, Percy."

"Yes," Percy Weasley nodded as Dumbledore made his exit. A good deed - to make up for all the horrible things he'd done as a spy for the Order.


	4. 3: The New Normal

Title: Past, Present, Future Tense  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: JKR owns all, I own Banning  
Summary: In all of the confusion and death of the final battle, new lives are created.  
A/N: Just another little shout out that this is set in an **AU OotP **world. It was originally plotted out before HBP came out. And it is remaining that way.

_**Past, Present, Future Tense**_**  
**_3. The New Normal_

Millicent kept her head down as she waddled into the small room that connected to her own. Three months had passed since her escape from Hogwarts, and the awful war had finally ended. They would be safe now.

Hannah had often spoke of going home to her family, but for Millicent this was it. A tiny flat she didn't own smack in the heart of Muggle London. Her father had lost the family estate along with his life nearly two years ago. Her mother'd been dead since Millicent's second year at Hogwarts. Home had been the Slytherin dungeons and begging off at both Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson's homes over the holidays.

Millicent frowned as she glanced around the room. She'd become domestic over the last three months - but how were they? Were her friends safe? Had they been in the last battle? Had they been hurt or killed? She knew Draco's fate, as his face had been plastered as liberally across the papers as Potter's had been.

The flat was eerily quiet tonight, what with Hannah's absence. As there was no longer really a need for their location to be kept secret, Millicent had told Hannah the flat's precise location. She stayed with Millie in the flat during the week and went home on the weekend. Hannah had told her as much about the Muggle world as she could retain. When the baby was born and Hannah's apprenticeship started in another three months, Millicent would have to find some way of supporting her family. She might not even have this flat - it most likely belonged to one of the Hogwarts staff.

Millicent didn't want to think on that just yet. She'd already sent on an owl to Madame Pomfrey about perhaps purchasing it from the current owner. She had a little savings left over in the family coffers. A larger inheritance was to be held in trust for her from her Grandmother Banningtide's estate. Her Muggle grandmother. She'd died when Millicent was seven, and she could fondly remember Grandmother Banningtide holding her own with Grandmother Bulstrode. The two women hated each other. But then, Grandmother Bulstrode had been a poor, bigoted witch and Grandmother Banningtide had been wealthy and Muggle.

"You know," Millicent murmured to the bulge that had begun to kick impatiently. "If you turn out to be a girl, I'm definitely naming you after her."

"Naming the baby after who?" Hannah said brightly, sweeping into the room with an armful of packages.

"My gran. She was another Millicent," Millicent smiled, rubbing her stomach. "I thought you were goin' home this weekend?"

"That'll be awfully confusing, having two Millicents around," Hannah puffed out a breath.

"I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps I'll use her last name," Millicent shook her head at Hannah's avoidance.

"Bulstrode?" Hannah frowned as she began pulling baby clothes from one of the smaller packages.

"No, Banningtide."

"That's a bit of a mouthful."

"I'd lop off the end. Banning is a good name."

"Banning Ma- er, Bulstrode," Hannah coughed. "Has a good ring to it."

"Yes. Now, what did you buy now? I'd swear it was you havin' this baby. You nest ten times worse than I do."

"I've got four younger siblings. The last one just turned five. My mum is ecstatic that I know people who need these things. The house is crammed with all this kit."

"She thinks you're knocked up, doesn't she?" Millicent shook her head.

"Yes. I had to assure her five times that it's my flat mate who's expecting not me," Hannah frowned. "Then she asked if I was seeing my flat mate."

"You're not my type, love," Millicent chuckled, enjoying the moment.

"And you're not mine," Hannah smiled back. "I prefer leggy blondes."

"You know you don't have to stay, Han," Millicent rubbed her stomach again. "I'll be fine on my own."

"I just told you I have four younger siblings at home," Hannah blinked at her. "Why in Merlin's name would I want to go home to that?"

* * *

Nott was dead. Finally. Mercifully. Draco looked away from the pale form of his school friend. The hex had been lingering, and Theo had hung on for as long as he possibly could. Draco himself had barely been able to get to his side to say goodbye. It didn't seem fair that they'd gone through hell and still couldn't find peace.

Pansy sobbed quietly against Blaise's shoulder. No one else had been at Theo's side in the end. Three of his four friends. Where was -

"Where's Milli?" Draco's voice rasped as he blinked at the hot tears forming in his eyes.

"Haven't got the foggiest," Blaise said roughly. "Haven't seen her in three months."

"What?"

"She was one of those evacuated before the last battle," Pansy hiccupped, raising her head from Blaise's shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because she was half-blood. Dumbledore got as many Muggleborns and half-bloods well clear of the Castle in preparation for the battle," Blaise ground out, angry with Draco for some reason.

"See if you can pass the news on to her," Draco snapped, leaving his friends behind. He was cold, far colder than he had been when he'd entered the sick room hours earlier. Merlin, he needed a drink.

* * *

There was a knock on the window pane that interrupted their dinner. Millicent recognized it as the familiar signal of the Secret Keeper's owl. It had been nearly two weeks since she'd heard anything from Him. Hannah quietly rose and opened the window to the unfamiliar owl. It was always a different one. The dark owl made a beeline for Millicent, shaking it's foot at her impatiently. She scanned the missive quickly and glanced up at Hannah.

"Should I pop round to the shops and get us a new gossip rag?" Hannah cleared her throat.

"In about an hour," Millicent nodded.

"Good. Maybe I'll get a Cornetto," Hannah grinned, breaking off a piece of bread for the owl.

"You're evil," Millicent laughed, penning a quick reply on the missive.

* * *

Percy ran a hand through his short hair. He didn't like being the bearer of bad news, but he knew she would want to hear this. She _needed_ to hear this before it hit the papers. They'd hidden the tragedy from her for long enough, fearing her exposure and that of her child. The other girl - the Hufflepuff - would make herself scarce from the flat. That worried him immensely. Delivering bad news, however, seemed to be his specialty these days.

* * *

She shouldn't be so excited to see him, but Merlin knew, she was starting to go stir crazy in the flat. In a few more months, she'd be able to go out and interact with everybody like Hannah did now. It seemed prudent to wait until after the baby was born. Safer. But right now, she had two things to look forward to: Hannah's daily, bubbly excitement over everything and seeing _him_. She didn't want to say his name, feeling like she was betraying her secret keeper by naming him. But he was another person to talk to, to interact with and it beat her talking to herself any day of the week.

There was a soft pop in the parlor and Millicent turned in her seat to face him. He seemed - _off_. And distraught. Shit.

"What's wrong?" Millicent asked quietly.

"You asked after the flat -"

"That's not why you're all flustered," Millicent's throat constricted. "What's wrong?"

"Nott," he sighed.

"Theo -" Millicent rose to her feet, which seemed to fluster him more. "What's wrong with Theo."

"He died today."

Millicent's knees shook at the news. Theo? Serious, snarky Theo? Dead? He wasn't even eighteen. No, he must be talking about -

"Damn it, Millicent, don't you faint on me," he muttered, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"How?" Millicent demanded, staring up at him. "How is that possible?"

"Nott was injured during the last battle."

"Why didn't you _tell me_?" Millicent's voice shook. "Why wasn't I told?"

"I didn't have time to inform you -"

"Bullshit. Why wasn't I informed that my friend - whom I have pestered you about constantly - was critically injured?" Millicent glared up at him.

"To keep you and your unborn child safe."

Millicent looked away from him, stared at something on the fireplace. A glass bird in green and gold. He helped her back into her seat and crouched in front of her.

"Was it quick?"

"I'm sorry to say it wasn't. He'd been lingering in agony for nearly two weeks."

"And no one put him out of his misery?" Millicent shook her head.

"They tried to save him. He was a young man -"

"Didn't even ask him, did they?" Millicent laughed hoarsely, her voice cracking as she tried to rein her own pain in.

"Do no harm," he said quietly.

"Doing no harm would be letting him go," Millicent felt the tears slipping over her cheeks. "Was he alone?"

"No. Parkinson and Zabini had been at his side, begging for them to let him go since the battle."

"Then why didn't they listen?" she asked, glancing away from the glass bird and focusing on him again.

"Malfoy's decision to make," he shrugged. "He was listed as next of kin and was the only one who could sign off on it."

"Draco," Millicent shut her eyes at the news. "He fought to save him, didn't he?"

"Yes."

They sat like that for several moments, her dark head lowered and nearly touching his ginger one as both seemed to mourn the lost boy. The noise of Hannah's return startled them out of their thoughts. It was the unwritten rule - Hannah didn't get to know who he was, and he never was here when she was. It had kept them safe.

He awkwardly rose to his feet and stepped away from her, breaking the spell they both had been under. He reached into his pocket and set a few envelopes in her lap. Millicent frowned at him.

"What are these?"

"The deed to the flat, letters from Parkinson and a few other things," he stepped farther back into the small room. "I should go."

"Thank you, Percy," Millicent said quietly, startling him into looking into her eyes. "For everything. For telling me about Theo."

"I can't say you're welcome for my bringing you bad news," Percy flushed a bit.

"Thank you anyway."

He nodded, cleared his throat and apparated out of the flat. Millicent took a shaky breath as Hannah burst into the parlor, a bag full of snacks and glossy magazines on her wrist.

"Millie? Oh, God, what happened?" Hannah cried, taking one look at her face.

"Theo's dead."

"And _he_ told you that on your own!" Hannah snapped. "Idiot man!"

"Don't shoot the messenger. He didn't make the decision to not tell me," Millicent shook her head. "Draco - let him suffer trying to save him."

"_What_?"

"I need you to promise me something, Han -"

"Millicent, you're pregnant not dying -"

"If I'm suffering, let me go. Don't hang on for whatever reason. Promise?"

"I can't -"

"Do no harm. Please," Millicent snapped her eyes shut, trying to stem the tears. "Please, promise me."

"Of course. But it's not going to come to that, Millie. I won't let it," Hannah wrapped her arms around Millicent and together they mourned a boy that had died too soon.


End file.
